


25th Batch

by Cyberrat



Series: Fic Batches [25]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Anal Fisting, Double Penetration, Drunk Sex, Edging, Glory Hole, Gunplay, M/M, Oviposition, Praise Kink, Predicament Bondage, Prostate Milking, Sibling Incest, Somnophilia, Stink Kink, Subspace, Train Sex, sniff kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-13 04:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20576645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: 25th Batch of my fics





	1. Zelos/Regal

**Author's Note:**

> Zelos/Regal – alcohol/drunk; drunk sex; anonymous – Zelos is not in the business of fucking men, but Mr. Bryant really is an exceptional exception.

“There you go, big boy… Easy now,” Zelos croons as he slots himself beneath Mr. Bryant’s meaty arm and helps him up the stairs and away from the party raging down in the ballroom.

Of course, it is a masked ball and nobody is to know the identity of the other, but there are limitations as to what a man of Regal’s size can do, and the fact is that nobody in the nobility is as tall or broad as the Lezareno CEO.

Or, as it happens, as easily intoxicated.

Zelos is so luckyyyy!

“I don’t… feel so well,” Mr. Bryant murmurs beneath the simple domino mask he has put on and Zelos makes a soft sound of commiseration even though hidden in the shadow cast by the long nose of his own ornate mask, he is grinning like a kid.

“I know. I will get you in a room. So you can lie down, y’know?”

Regal makes a soft sound of confirmation and makes an effort to stand on his own two legs again which takes a considerable weight off of Zelos. Damn, but the guy is beefy.

He seriously wonders what a CEO is doing all day to be this ripped. But… in the end he does not really care. All he cares about is to navigate this particular hunk inside his private chamber and get him on his bed.

Zelos does not usually deal with men, but he’s had his eye on Mr. Bryant for a very, very long time and seeing how poorly he can hold his liquor has been a sign of the Goddess that today is his day. Or night, as it were.

“There you go… Slowly, gently… Ah what the Hell.” He just lets him fall and Regal drops onto the bed like a sack of bricks. He bounces once, twice, then just keeps lying there, softly groaning.

“Big baby,” Zelos murmurs. He can already feel sweat starting to spring up along his hairline but he does not dare putting off his mask. Bryant might be pretty out of it but just as there are no people in the nobility with a stature as his, there are little to none with hair as fire red as Zelos’, and he is afraid that if the big lug remembers anything, it might be the shock of crimson hair from the Chosen.

It is not quite as difficult to peel Regal out of his clothes as he had thought. Surprisingly enough, the guy helps him out, trying to get onto his knees and fumbling with his pants while his face is mashed into the bed from the awkward position.

His mask has long since slipped up onto his head and Zelos reaches out to pluck it off and put it to the side. 

Mr. Bryant has started growing out his hair, it seems. There is a nice thick little pony tail bound at the nape of his neck and Zelos automatically reaches for it and pulls.

The reaction he gets is… delicious.

Regal groans and angles his as up in the air as if a button had been pressed. Like he’s done this shit a million times. For a second Zelos thinks that’s it but then he realizes that Regal is not simply groaning, he is groaning a _name_.

He can’t make it out, so he just leaves it for now.

“Wow… it’s always those tight laced ones that are the freaks, huh?” he murmurs and continues stripping him out of his finely tailored suit.

By the time he is done and Mr. Bryant, CEO of Lezareno Corp. is lying there in all his tightly muscled glory. Zelos puts in a grunting effort to push him onto his back so he can take a good look at everything the guy has to offer.

Wow.

Wow…

Zelos stares at the tightly muscled belly, down to the little tuft of grey-blue pubes out of which a… frankly delicious cock juts. It is not even halfway hard but it is nice and fat and makes Zelos’ belly go tight.

Those pecs are delicious, too. He is just wondering whether he could fuck them like a pair of nice soft tits when Regal groans and starts to turn around again, murmuring something about how he is going to puke.

He does no such thing, but Zelos really really isn’t in the mood to try and turn his heavy ass around again.

Ass. MMmhhh yeah that’s the thing Zelos needs.

He opens the drawer of his bedside cabinet, realizes that he’s emptied his last tub of vaseline, starts cursing and then sees that Sebastian has put in a new one. Good ol’ Sebastian. Best butler an up and coming Chosen could ask for.

Coming. Heh. _Don’t mind if I doooo_.

Regal’s hole is a cute pink and very naked. It reminds Zelos of a pussy, if he is being really honest (he’s not always, but it’s just him and a sloppy drunk guy) and Regal makes a cute little sound when he drags a wet finger around the wrinkly rim.

He even takes it like a champ; just opens right up, nice and soft and giving, and he whines again, the name this time undeniable.

_Alicia_.

What the heck? Zelos frowns and slowly begins fucking him. He doesn’t want to admit how nice and soft and warm Regal is inside, but… wow. Feels really good. Really nice. Why the fuck would a guy as stacked as Bryant start moaning a girl’s name when he’s getting his ass fingered?

It’s almost like she has…

Nah. Nah, that’s not possible. Bryant is as straight laced as they come. He’s pretty sure he’s popping the guy’s cherry. That’s a really nice thought right there.

He’s prepped in pretty much no time at all and while Zelos is figuring out the logistics of his own vibrant, glittering costume, Bryant reveals himself to be a real natural at this whole ‘getting fucked’ thing because he arches his back downward and his ass up and claws at the bedding as he waits to be fucked.

His massive cock and balls are hanging there, freely swinging between his massive thighs. Wow. That’s… that’s quite a sight.

Zelos swallows. The mask is kind of in his way but he still doesn’t dare to remove it. He feels a little small and scrawny mounting up on that big dude, but there is little to worry about when he dips his cock into the creamy heat of his ass.

Wow.

Shit. Wow. That’s… really good.

Bryant takes it like a stud. He groans softly, eyes closing, lips wet and inviting as he claws at the bedding. He whines for this girl again and it makes Zelos’ head spin.

He tries not to think about it. 

He gives it to him nice and good and proper, and Regal keeps on groaning all happy and shit. His cock, when Zelos fumbles under his belly, is wet and so hot to the touch he almost imagines it could burn him.

His insides seem to grow hotter as well. It is like fucking molten metal, and he is sweating like a goddamn pig but this is also… really good. Really fucking good.

While the party rages just a floor below them, Zelos Wilder, the Chosen of Tethe’alla, fucks the belly of the Lezareno Corp’s CEO full of his cum, all the while Bryant is groaning for that Alicia of his.

What a wild fucking night.

Right up Zelos’ alley.


	2. Hanzo/Genji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji/Hanzo – train sex; roleplay; molestation – Hanzo and Genji have something planned. Hanzo has second thoughts but Genji gets him back into the spirit anyway because he’s pent up.

When Genji gets on the train, Hanzo is already there as they had discussed. The train isn’t quite overly full yet; it would achieve that in the next two stops, but it still is not too weird that Genji comes and stands right behind his brother.

Hanzo has dressed down some from his usual very-Yakuza attire to something that makes him look more like a regular office clerk.

A _hot_ regular office clerk. Genji’s cock is sitting up at attention immediately – as it usually does with Hanzo, if he is being quite honest. 

Hanzo is standing right in the middle of the aisle and Genji can tell he’s not too thrilled with the position right smack dab middle of everything, but that only makes it better. It would not have been as interesting if Hanzo just went along with the whole charade.

Genji himself is donning his usual fuckboy attire and most of the business men and ladies in the train shuffle out of his way as to not get ‘caught up in his shit’ as Hanzo so succinctly put it one time.

They’re a bit afraid of him, he can tell. They know he is a thug, or maybe even suspect he is Yakuza, and they just… really really don’t want to get in any messes on their way off of work.

It’s nice. Genji likes a bit of fear to go with his everything; and fear also that Hanzo can get a bit loud and whiny without anybody having the courage to interfere.

Hanzo is standing there, stretched a little to curl his hand around the railing above, feet apart to make room for an empty briefcase he’s put on the floor between them.

Genji sidles up behind his brother. They’re close enough in height that he doesn’t have to make weird acrobatics to slot his crotch in at Hanzo’s tight little ass.

They have planned on all of this to happen but still Hanzo flinches slightly. There are no weapons on his person – which is part of the thrill – so Genji is not too worried. (Not that Hanzo would need weapons to kill him.)

There’s a four-seater in front of Hanzo, and the people there are not paying any attention to them. Two are on their phones, one is reading the newspaper on a tablet, and the fourth is just staring out the window with earbuds in.

Nobody takes offence to Genji curling his arms around Hanzo’s hips and nonchalantly trying to open his belt. Hanzo, of course, stiffens and digs his elbow into Genji’s side; though not too hard.

“Stop it!” he hisses very softly. The man reading the news glances up at that, sees what’s going on, and hurriedly stares down at the device once more.

Genji grins against the nape of Hanzo’s neck and comes a little closer. 

“You’re pretty hot,” he slurs into his ear as if he’s a little drunk. “Why don’t you give me a little sugar? If you stay nice and quiet, nobody has to know…”

“N-No, I mean it,” Hanzo whispers back. His ear is hot red, radiating heat as Genji suckles the lobe between his lips and gently bites down. Hanzo squirms and digs his elbow in again, and Genji frowns and glances a bit into his face.

He looks… very flustered.

“You serious?” he whispers back, raising an eyebrow. Hanzo just nods. He is uncharacteristically shy all of a sudden; their very open position apparently having robbed him of any and all bravado that he has had.

Genji hums thoughtfully as if he is considering his plea, and then stuffs his hand unceremoniously into the back of his pants.

The train halts and opens its doors for the real flood of people right as Genji presses his dry fingertips against Hanzo’s hole and spreads them to spread his cheeks apart to let his middle finger try and force fuck his way inside.

Hanzo’s surprised outcry is swallowed in the general noise as they get jostled and more bodies slot themselves around them, even taking away the sight of the four seater in front of them.

“There,” Genji rasps into his ear. He is fumbling awkwardly, getting his own pants open and trying to squirt lube from a little packet onto his cock one-handed. A good lot of it lands on his pants – damn – but the rest he manages to smear across the raging erection he is sporting. He’s always been a kind of exhibitionist, and doing nasty shit with his brother in a crowded train is making it really easy to get a stiffy.

Hanzo has stopped trying to dig his elbow into Genji’s side, but he’s also not as enthusiastic as he’s been while they’ve been just talking about it, with Genji two finger deep in his ass and finger banging his prostate.

He’s not timid, per se, but stoic, definitely, standing like a rock even as Genji kicks his feet a little farther apart and makes it even more difficult to keep a grip on the overhead railing.

His ears are still a flushed red, but he’s opted to not make a sound while his little brother bares him to the warm, stifling air of the train with strangers all around them and none the wiser because they have no idea that one of them is getting his pants pulled down until his dick is popped free and his ass is right there in the open.

Genji wonders if he can change it. It is always fun to try and make Hanzo lose his composure, and trying to grunt fuck his wet cock into his brother’s dry, unprepared hole is sure to do the trick.

“Easy now,” he rasps into his ear, one hand on Hanzo’s hip, the other at the base of his dick to steady it as he starts to force his way inside with steady pressure. He can hear Hanzo grunt softly, his head sinking forward, chin against his chest as he finally lets go of the railing above and instead grabs onto Genji’s wrist for purchase as he slightly bends his knees and bears down.

Genji is grinning like a lunatic. It is a fucking – hah – effort, but eventually the tip pops in and Hanzo makes a long, reedy sound right at the back of his throat. Nobody cares. Or, nobody _wants_ to care.

Either way, it is very hot in Genji’s opinion.

He steadies himself, carefully letting go of his cock and instead grabs the other hip as well. He hooks his chin over Hanzo’s shoulder, obnoxiously breathing hot and moist against his ear while his hips start a slow rhythm that is undoubtedly forced as he tries to forge a way for himself while Hanzo is made to try and relax into it.

“Wow… look at you, taking it like a champ,” Genji croons into his ear, and bites just for good measure. Hanzo grunts and gives him a bit of a headbutt but it at least has the effect of making him forget all about clenching up and lets Genji slide in that precious little rest of the way.

“I’m going to fuck you right here, little slut,” he whispers, heart pounding fast as he is fully immersed in his role. “I will fuck you and fill you up and there is nothing you can do about it… and you should stay nice and quiet if you don’t want others to see what a nasty whore you are.”

Hanzo lifts one hand and presses it to his mouth. His insides are scorching and gripping like a vice.

Genji starts to move.


	3. Genji/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo/Genji – incest; tsundere virgin Hanzo; unrequited love being requited – Genji thinks Hanzo doesn’t like him that way, Hanzo thinks Genji doesn’t like him that way, but they’re both super obvious and Hanzo just really wants the D.

“Genji.”

Genji squawks and whirls around, his heart in his throat, blinking at the shadow that has suddenly peeled itself off of the other shadows that have gathered around one of the wooden pillars on the walkway.

“W...W… Y-Yolei?” he stutters as he sees the curvy outline and the glint of long, black hair in the moonlight. He feels too dumbfounded to even start being angry. How did she manage to get into Hanamura castle?

There is a disgusted little ‘tsk’, and the shadow moves into the rosy early-early morning light that is starting to flood the castle grounds.

When Genji realizes that the person in front of him is, in fact, not Yolei but Hanzo, he first calms down and takes a deep breath with a little chuckling laugh before his heart suddenly starts pounding _even harder_.

“Hanzo? What…”

“You’ve been away all night. Again.”

“Ah. That… yeah, you see, I was kind of busy…”

“Why not me?”

Genji stops and stares at him. It is difficult holding a conversation with Hanzo when he has all his faculties gathered, but drunk it feels like he is a toddler trying to speak to a God.

Hanzo is steadily coming closer. His face is dark and angry, which is nothing new, but his get-up is… nice. His hair is down for once, showing off the glossy black strands in the soft morning light.

He is still wearing his morning robe that looks a bit ratty now but has been well-loved for years.

It is a bit too short and small overall. Genji can’t complain. He first stares at Hanzo’s naked legs and strong, muscular thighs, then has to glance up at his pecs that look like they’re about to spill out of the small opening in the front.

“Huh?” he finally says idiotically. He has to try and not drool. He’s been fantasizing about this very _vision_ for so long that he seriously wonders if he isn’t actually asleep somewhere in a dirty alleyway.

“Why do you take those… _bimbos_ and not me?” Hanzo says, inflection angry enough to distract from the flush slowly but surely spreading across his sharp cheekbones.

Genji blinks at him. He has to dream. Maybe he got run over by a car on his way back to the castle and is actually in a coma or… something.

Hanzo is suddenly in his arms. It is sensory overload to have him clinging to him like one of the girls he likes to fuck; those that he chooses for their glossy black hair or strong eyebrows or nice, big tits.

“Am I not good enough?” Hanzo says and his voice is brittle, like he is on the verge of tears. Genji is… overwhelmed.

He doesn’t know what to say. To do. He can just stare and reflexively gather his older brother in his arms to press him to his chest. Like this, staring down at him, he can’t help but notice how much his pecs look like a great pair of tits, squished against him.

“Why do you go out and look for these other girls when I am here?” Hanzo says softly. It sounds… cheesy, like one of Genji’s soap operas. It does not fit Hanzo who is always cool and calculated – except that it does when Hanzo is trying very sneakily to woo his drunk younger brother.

“I… I… you…”

Genji licks his lips nervously, his heart pounding a mile a minute as he can just stand and bumble like an idiot while Hanzo is staring at him looking like a wet dream. Like he just casually fell out of bed with his hair brushed beautifully and this old ratty robe artfully showing off all his best assets.

“Come.”

Hanzo pulls him and Genji just follows along. He is being led back the way he came and then into Hanzo’s rooms, the sliding doors open just that little bit; inviting his brother inside to stay a while.

Hanzo’s rooms are traditional and lame, except for the nice mattress he has on the floor instead of a thin futon.

There’s a push and a shove and Genji has to fight against sudden nausea when he falls to the ground and bounces on the mattress.

Hanzo is on him in seconds. Genji blinks up at him slowly. His brain is not functioning like it should. He can’t make a rhyme or reason out of how this started with Hanzo accosting him on the walkway outside and ended with his big brother sitting astride his hips, looking somehow fierce and embarrassed in one.

“What-”

“Do your thing.”

“My… thing?”

“Yes. What you do with those other girls. Do it with _me_.”

Genji squints up at his big brother. When he’s seen him the last time he’s been in a meeting with the Elders, discussing the profitability of one of their bordellos, and now… this.

Genji slowly grabs Hanzo’s thighs. They are meaty with muscle. He can imagine them crushing his head, and has done so countless times while tending to an impossibly hard erection.

“You want me… to do to you what I do to those girls,” he says slowly, trying to wrap his head around it. Hanzo looks angry. Furious even.

“That’s what I said, wasn’t it?!” he hisses impatiently and grabs Genji’s hair, pulling on it until it _hurts_.

“Ouch! Fuck! Stop that!”

Hanzo lets go of him. His dark eyes are hard and angry but when he reaches for his sash and slowly opens his robes he ducks his head like one of the virgins Genji has talked into his bed.

Really cute and shy and all. He is giving off mixed signals and Genji has no idea how to approach any of this.

His brain short circuits a bit when he has his older brother, who he has been lusting after for… a long, long while, sitting naked astride his lap.

He is gorgeous. Of course he is.

And when Genji turns them to have him below him, stretched out like a feast, Hanzo does not object to any of it.

When Genji parts is legs, though, teasing lube wet fingers against his hole, that’s when the real fun starts.

Hanzo’s hand is back in his hair, pulling meanly at the strands until tears spring up at the corners of Genji’s eyes, but he also has his other hand pressed to his face, trying to hide how desperately red hot his cheeks have gotten, and how much he is panting just from a single finger fucking its way inside and rounding his prostate like the little treat that it is.

If Genji didn’t know better – and he didn’t – he would put money on Hanzo being a virgin.

He’s never met a virgin that’s so mean, though.

He keeps hitting and pulling at him; not hard enough to knock him out but definitely hard enough to hurt, and Genji still is hard as a diamond as he nudges his cock against Hanzo’s peachy hole and starts to try and fuck his way inside.

God, he thinks if any of the partners he’s had were as mean as Hanzo getting fucked on dick for the first time, he doesn’t think he’d have followed through with this whole sex thing… but it all pays off in the end anyway; when he has Hanzo good and proper on his dick; when he is actually, really fucking his big brother and has him sobbing with the stretch and burn of his sweet little not-so-virgin-anymore hole…

It all pays off. It’s like a dream.

God, he hopes he isn’t dreaming.


	4. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R76 – centaur!Gabriel; farmer!Jack; belly bulge; insecure about his size Gabriel; size queen Jack – ... right what it says on the tin :)

While Jack is brushing Gabriel’s coat to a gleam, Gabriel is doing the same for his own upper body.

There is a large basin filled with warm water standing in front of him on a table, and an assortment of soft sponges, some with sticks, lying next to it.

It’s not their first time doing it this way. They’ve made it into a routine by now, even. Gabriel slowly, meditatively enjoys the warm, soapy water, sluicing it down his body and getting his hair wet, all the while Jack works his lower half over with brushes of varying degrees of hardness.

Today, however, something is different.

Gabriel seems… distracted, for lack of a better word. Jack can see him stopping again and again, just freezing halfway to soaping up his chest or his arms, the little muscles beneath his fur jumping as if to dissuade flies.

It takes him a while to find out a pattern, but eventually he puts two and two together.

“Are you ticklish?” he murmurs, and grins slow and sly when Gabriel whirls his head around and peeks down the long, sleek expanse of his back to where Jack is standing in his work overalls next to his hindquarters.

“The fuck? No.”

“Hmmm.” Jack does not say more but his grin is broad as he turns back to Gabriel’s body and lets the brush swipe along the expanse of his belly which trembles again. This time he even lifts one of his hind legs half-way into an aborted little kick before stomping it back down to the ground.

“Just… leave that,” Gabriel says awkwardly. Jack would love to know if he’s flushing or not but it is a bit difficult to tell with him, unfortunately. Still, he sounds awfully cute; all flustered and pouty.

Jack licks his lips slowly. He’s fostered a lot of centaurs, starting on his father’s farm before building up his own. He knows interest when he sees it.

“Whatever you say,” he grunts instead, all gruff and uninterested while Gabriel starts up washing himself once more; a little more forceful than the soft, thick sponges warrant. 

Jack likes the wet glisten of his skin. It is, in his opinion, equally as sensual as watching Gabriel lazily gallop over the pasture, all his muscles in stark definition and working perfectly beneath his gleaming black coat.

Gabriel is an interesting one. Boisterous and taciturn, yet… soft. Sweet. He’s caught him napping with a few of the foals, letting them snuggle up between his curled legs and lie over the firm swell of his belly to soak in the sun between bouts of doing mischief.

He also almost kicked Jack’s head in twice during his first week on his farm when Jack had advanced too quickly on him with too little warning.

Yet. Here they are. Jack greatly enjoys the big boy’s presence, and, he feels like, it might be mutual. He doesn’t think that Gabriel is in the habit of socializing with humans unless he likes them, so… yeah. Jack is a bit proud of that one.

He leaves Gabriel’s belly for now and focuses on his back and the sides. His cock is starting to swell the longer he inhales the warm, comforting scent of the centaur’s body, and he shuffles his feet a little apart to give himself more room. Gabriel is none the wiser. He never has been; he is as oblivious to Jack’s advances as ever, and it is simultaneously the most amusing and infuriating feature about him.

Jack’s hand brushes along the tender space along Gabriel’s hip just before his hind leg, and again his muscles tremble, this time with the centaur audibly gasping.

Well. Now or never. Jack is not going to get any younger, and if he doesn’t act on it now, when should he?

He slings the arm still holding the brush across Gabriel’s lower back for support and leans down, naked hand sliding along the delicious swell of the stallion’s belly.

He can hear him grunt: “What the-” but the second his fingers lovingly slide around his silky sheath, Gabriel seems to choke on his own tongue and doesn’t say anything anymore.

Jack does not look back to check on him. He doesn’t know if he’d even be able to see.

He isn’t dead yet, so he uses Gabriel’s shock to lean down and peek beneath his belly and see for himself what he can already feel in his palm.

Ah. There it is.

Gabriel’s cock is… beautiful – and massive, which had to be expected. It is already filling Jack’s palm broad and heavy just inside the sheath, and has extended about halfway out already.

Beneath Jack’s watchful eye, it starts to grow, extending until it begins to droop down towards the ground, the flat mushroom crown indented with the piss hole that he is quite sure he could fuck his tongue into if he’s just tenacious enough about it. God. That’s a fucking nice thought if he ever had one.

Gabriel’s hind leg twitches up again as if to kick for Jack, and he is prepared to jerk out of the way, but it lowers again before it can come close to reaching him.

“Jack… That’s not a good idea.”

Jack _does_ turn around at that to peek up at Gabriel. He is glancing back, his eyes uncharacteristically big and shy and glassy. He looks nervous and his hoofs are doing a gentle tippy-tap to undermine that.

Shit. Jack hadn’t been prepared for the big boy to be _this_ soft.

“We can just have a bit of fun,” he tells him, easily reaching beneath Gabriel’s belly and taking a firm, yet gentle hold of his cock just to show him that it’d not be his first rodeo. God, it is so fucking hot in his palm. So silky and hard.

“I don’t know…”

Gabriel says, but he is hunching his hips into the touch, trying to fuck into Jack’s fist. Jack grins slowly, his belly feeling so goddamn _empty_, he needs it _filled_.

“Oh… but _I_ know.”

.o.

Gabriel is sobbing like a first timer. He is not, Jack thinks, at least, but he has his arms stacked against the side of the building and is hiding his face against them while he fucks in shivery little thrusts that Jack can’t seem to shake him out of no matter how breathily he assures him that it is alright to try and rearrange his guts all new with that gorgeous fat cock he has.

It’s a shame that Gabriel does not seem to want to watch what he’s doing to Jack, but Jack is there for all of it anyway.

He is bracing himself with outstretched arms against the backs of Gabriel’s front legs, and using the leverage to rock himself back onto his cock which feels… impossibly fat. Just… just impossibly, incomprehensibly wide.

Gabriel is not the first centaur he’s fucked, but he might just be the biggest of them still. 

When he lets his head fall forward between his arms and looks down his body he can see his overalls tangled about his knees, and his belly… oh his belly… The bulge is… immense. He can see the outline of Gabriel’s cock almost perfectly.

The sight is almost a little freakish and makes his knees all weak, but _damn_ the thing is pressing constantly against his prostate, and the overload of sensation is making his head all dizzy.

Damn… Damn this is so good…

And all Gabriel does is gasp a bit high pitched and frantic, trying his very best not to kill this slutty human on his dick.

„More…“ Jack grunts eventually, somehow finding a bit of air that hasn‘t been squeezed out of him by centaur cock. „More… c-come on.“

The stretch of his hole is pinging all his pleasure sensors in the most delicious way. He thinks about all his toys he‘s got upstairs and how they can‘t hold a candle to this massive, gorgeous horse cock.

Gabriel makes a reedy, breathy sound. He does hunch his hips down a little more but that‘s it. He‘s all but speared Jack on his cock like a pig roasting over the fire and Jack is living his _life_.

Sweet boy. Sweet, sweet boy.


	5. Harold/Sigma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Winston/Sigma – pet play; soft; insecure Sigma – An evening at the moonbase. (No real sexytimes just feel-good vibes).

When Siebren steps out of the small shower room wearing some soft pink shorts that end high on his long legs, and a t-shirt, Harold has already put out a few things for them for the night.

Their accommodations are as luxurious as they can get on a moonbase, and so he can sit on a thick stuffed chair and lounge as he watches Siebren putter about, waiting for him to notice his partner-in-crime.

Siebren is softly muttering beneath his breath, a steep fold between his eyebrows as he is focused on not forgetting whatever he has come up with beneath the hot spray of the shower. 

Like this, with his long legs all naked and his feet gently patting against the floor, he looks unbelievably attractive and soft. Harold smiles slowly, bracing his head in his hand and watching as the other man finally manages to unearth a data pad to scrawl some equations hectically down.

When it looks like he might be sitting down at the messy table to start exploring a strand of his idea, Harold sharply clears his throat just to get through the busy fog of invention already clouding Siebren’s mind.

Siebren jerks and whirls around on the little stool. His dark hair – what is left of it – is standing off in every direction as he blinks at Harold with his pale eyes owlishly. Harold has always liked that combination on subs. Dark hair and big pale eyes that look so sweet and innocent.

He grins broadly at Siebren and sits up a bit straight, unfolding his arms wide.

“Eh?” he says, indicating not only the soft pyjama he is wearing but also the big pillow at his feet. It is for a large dog originally, but this time it will be for his kitty.

Siebren stares, taking the sight in, then immediately goes all shy and flustered. He shuts off the data pad without Harold having to say a thing and stands up.

He has a habit of hunching and trying to make his broad shoulders somehow fold in, and Harold watches as the tall man hurries over to him, then slows down to carefully let himself down onto the pillow.

“I didn’t know you’d taken something like that with you,” he says softly. “Did they not ask what that was for?”

He is gently moving his long fingers across the firmly stuffed rim of the pillow, his ears becoming a bit pink. Harold can feel his own mimicking it, though he smiles.

“I said it was for the baby,” he murmurs, meaning the little gorilla that he is in charge of. Siebren nods, satisfied with the simple genius of the other man. “...I didn’t specify for _which_ baby,” Harold continues and Siebren’s noddinghalts as he thinks about that, then glances up at Harold, the pink of his ears going a bit darker as he understands.

Harold hums and reaches behind himself where he has hidden the little cat ears. He gently puts them on Siebren’s head and croons at how cute he looks with the small fluffy triangles sticking out from his messy hair.

“There you go… good kitty. So cute…”

Siebren’s whole face is flushed now; as if he’s taken a hot bath for a little too long, but he says a soft little _meow_ and looks so proud of himself that Harold feels all gooey inside.

They grin at each other and then Harold shuffles back and grabs a blanket from next to the armchair.

By the time he twists back around, Siebren is already in the process of curling himself up on the thick pillow, his face gone a bit slack as he lets himself just bask in being a little kitten for now.

Harold throws the blanket around him and takes care to make sure it is tucked neatly beneath his naked feet.

He gently rubs them to make sure they are warm until Siebren twitches his leg to get away from the almost-tickling grasp.

“What a sweet kitty,” Harold says. He can feel the huge grin on his face but also can’t make himself not look giddy at the prospect of having one of the most brilliant scientists on the planet at his feet and purring like a sweet little animal.

He lets him be for a while; just lying on the pillow between Harold’s feet, almost asleep and making little out-of-it sounds every now and then. He always goes down quick and enthusiastic for Harold, but the last time they’ve done this they’ve still been on earth, training themselves for the long mission ahead.

Harold reads up a bit on the news down on the planet, then sinks about half an hour into watching the primates in their areas; the older ones still out and about and playing with the equipment, and little Winston in his bed right where Harold has tucked him in earlier like the *good *boy that he is.

Harold can feel his chest swell warm and affectionate and wonders whether this is how a father feels like. God…

He inhales deeply to somehow make that *full feeling in his chest deflate when he breathes back out but it does not go and he is not exactly unhappy with it. He looks at the time, then puts the data pad away and stands.

He leans down and brushes his hand over the back of Siebren’s head and down along the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades, seamlessly letting it slip beneath the t-shirt he is wearing to feel the warmth of his skin. He then just walks over to his bed, knowing that his kitty will follow when he is ready for it.

When the bed dips with the weight of Siebren, Harold almost has fallen asleep. He blindly opens his arms and his kitten lies down in them.

Without playing, Siebren would have been too self-conscious, insisting that he is too big and needs to be the big spoon, but kitty does not pay any attention to these things and just basks in cuddling up to Harold until he is lying just the way he likes it.

Harold curls his arm around his hip and shoves his hand beneath his shirt. He gently scratches his belly, playing with the wisps of hair growing around and beneath his belly button, then slides farther down, fingertips just playing with the drawstring of the little pink shorts he is wearing.

“What a good kitty,” Harold murmurs, voice deep with imminent sleep.

There is nothing hurried about any of it; one testing if the other is up for a bit more play, and when he opens the drawstring and slips his hand inside, he finds a half-hard cock waiting for him.

“Well-behaved little kittens get a reward,” he slurs against Siebren’s ear. It feels warm and sensitive against his lips, and Siebren shudders from head to toe from the sensation of Harold behind him, holding him, cradling his most sensitive part in his palm and crooning sweet nothings as if Siebren really is a small little thing instead of a hulking fourty-something year old man.

Everything is soft and slow and warm and the perfect ending of a nice, productive day.


	6. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – praise kink; top bottoming for the first time (?) – Gabriel has to realize that he has a praise kink...

Gabriel has been praised a fair share in his life, and of course he likes it just like anybody else, but this time… it is different somehow.

Of course Jack Fucking Morrison would find a way to make it weird with his odd intense sincerity, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing a hand between Gabriel’s shoulder blades, making sure he has all of Gabriel’s undivided attention before he tells him: “You outdid yourself on the course today!”

Gabriel almost bodily flinches away. He blinks at Jack, confused, then frowns a little and looks away.

“Don’t make it weird.”

His belly feels warm and prickling. He can feel the flush trying to make his ears hot and can feel himself becoming embarrassed because of it. It’s just a fucking sentence.

“Uh… okay?” Jack says after a moment of confused silence, slowly taking his hand away. When Gabriel glances at him he sees the frown on his face as he tries to figure out what he had done wrong this time. He looks like a goddamn Golden Retriever and Gabriel can’t stand the look, so he turns his head away.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah… It was just kinda weird.”

“Ah… I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that…” Jack’s hand comes back between Gabriel’s shoulder blades, this time rubbing small circles into his skin. There is a moment of quiet before he says slowly: “You know, you’re kinda weird about compliments and all that stuff.”

Gabriel, who had been stretching out and sighing softly at the warm big hand on his back, turns his head back towards Jack and opens one eye to peer at him.

“Weird? How?”

“Hmmm… you always get flustered or low-key angry.”

Gabriel frowns, his first knee-jerk reaction being that he should get… angry, but he tamps down on it. He thinks about it, then jerks his shoulders.

“Couldn’t say I agree with you there.”

Jack is quiet and lets his hand slowly travel from between Gabriel’s shoulder blades, down his spine to just above the waistband of his shorts, then back up to past the starting point. He grasps the back of Gabriel’s neck and squeezes firmly and the tension starts to melt from Gabriel’s limbs after a long day working his ass off in the SEP.

Jack shifts, crawling on the bed. Gabriel is just about to tell him that he’s too tired to fuck him when Jack straddles the backs of his thighs and hooks his fingers into the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down to sit beneath his ass.

Gabriel swallows, glancing over his shoulder at him but not saying anything. He is intrigued by these new developments. Jack hasn’t taken the initiative yet, and he is curious where he will take this.

“I love your ass,” Jack suddenly announces, and Gabriel chokes on his own tongue, laughing with a scratchy voice to hide how the honest admission seems to slide along his nerve endings warm and gentle.

“What the fuck?” he rasps. “Are you drunk?”

He twists a little to stare at Jack. Jack is about as red as Gabriel feels. He knows he’s being weird and embarrassing, but he trudges on.

“I’d been staring at it in the showers for a while and tried not to get a boner. I’ve never seen an ass like that on someone.”

His ice blue eyes glance at Gabriel’s face, then down at his naked ass. He reaches out and cups the cheeks, giving them a slow squeeze and just keeps talking.

“It’s super dumb but it made me pay more attention to you in general. Because I really liked you. Like… just from an aesthetic point of view. You were right up my alley. Are still, of course.

And then… I kinda realized, from watching you and obsessing over all your curves…”

At that he lets his hands slide up to follow the curve of Gabriel’s hips to his waist as if to drive the point home which curves he meant- “I realized that you’re… pretty awesome all in all. I’ve never seen a soldier as competent. You are just… like a machine. They give you an obstacle, and you overcome it. It is… awe inspiring, to be honest.”

Gabriel has stopped laughing now and, in fact, is no longer looking at Jack. He has his face hidden in his arms and wonders if Jack can feel the heat that his body suddenly seems to radiate. He feels on fire.

Jack shifts. Gabriel can feel him nestle himself between his legs, and the knowledge that he is now close up to the object of his… admiration… makes him make a sound he hadn’t known he’d even be capable of producing. It’s high pitched and soft and quite embarrassing.

His whole body feels liquid and Jack hadn’t even touched him much.

“You know what I think, Gabe?” he murmurs. His weirdly deep voice feels like it is sliding along Gabriel’s spine, starting from his tail bone up to the base of his neck where it settles as a tickling sensation that has him squirm.

He makes a soft sound of inquiry.

“I think that you like being praised. A whole lot. And that’s okay, right? Because you deserve to be praised. You’re a… you’re a pretty amazing guy.”

Gabriel groans and wraps one arm around the back of his head now, trying to just… disappear while his limbs are too soft and useless to do anything. He feels Jack spread his ass cheeks with both hands, showing his hole off to the cool air of the room; and before he can be self-conscious about_ that_, Jack’s mouth is right there, wet and suckling and warm, and coherent thoughts fly out of Gabriel’s head for now.

Jack is rimming him slow and intense, and with a focus that makes Gabriel’s toes curl. And just when he thinks he should tell him to cut it out – minutes too late – he introduces a pair of fingers to Gabriel’s spit wet hole. They are blunt and broad and make him whine again, but Jack is muttering against the small of his back how well he is doing… how amazing his hole looks being spread on just a couple of fingers… how good he will feel on Jack’s cock… all silky and hot and tight…

Gabriel feels like he is hyperventilating. His body is hot and tingling all over, bursts of sensation exploding whenever Jack murmurs another sentence about how… how perfect Gabriel is.

His head is spinning. Jack finger fucks him like he’s done it a million times before. Gabriel thinks he ought to be screaming foul play but honestly, Jack never said to him that he’s a virgin. It was just kind of heavily implied. 

Or maybe Jack Fucking Morrison is just a real master at finger banging himself and loves getting serviced by Gabriel…

Jack crawls up awkwardly and presses his weight down into Gabriel’s back, drilling him into the mattress. The bed groans beneath their combined weight suddenly so focused on one section of the surface, and Jack’s cock snuggles between Gabriel’s cheeks.

“I bet you can take me beautifully,” he rasps into Gabriel’s ear and lifts his hips. He reaches down, and while Gabriel is still trying to process the fireworks that go off inside his body when Jack croons these things at him with his weird rough voice, he dimly is aware of the blunt pressure against his hole.

It burns and is a bit uncomfortable, but Jack is crooning at him how perfect he is, and all he can do is capitulate and let him spread him on his cock.


	7. Sigma/Lúcio/Reinhardt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigma/Lúcio/Reinhardt – bit of roleplay; insecure Sigma; size queen Lúcio; double stuffing; belly bulge – Siebren needs to get a bit tipsy to pull through.

“Very well,” Reinhardt murmurs as he drags his fingertips once more across Lúcio’s cheek and then takes a step back to critically watch the two sitting on the bed. “How are you feeling? Both of you.”

Lúcio grins at him drunkenly. He looks loopy and fucked out; as if they had pumped him full with recreational drugs, but all they have done is stretch him to his absolute maximum on their fists.

Well. Reinhardt did – all the while Siebren watched, being a nervous wreck just off to the side and actually drinking a few shots to calm himself down.

It is only working more or less. He is flushed and keeps staring down at the small medic that is sitting on his lap. He just took one glance at his cock grotesquely standing up between Lúcio’s thighs, held up against the young man’s belly by Lúcio’s hands, showing off just how far above his belly button it reaches like that.

“Oh Goodness,” Siebren gasps, lifting one big hand and draping it across his eyes. “I… I can’t- this is… I will hurt him.”

“You won’t!” Lúcio exclaims immediately, albeit a little slurred. His big brown eyes flick to Reinhardt, a dull kind of panic in them that he could not get what he wants after going through literal hours of having his hole spread slowly but surely on Reinhardt’s fingers, then palm, then wrist. And then some. “Y-You won’t hurt me,” he murmurs, leaning back and rubbing his head against Sigma’s chest and throat and the underside of his chin like an amorous cat.

Sigma shakes his head, taking another peek across Lúcio’s shoulder and quickly closing his eyes. He doesn’t even dare to put his arm around the young medic.

Reinhardt can understand him to some degree. They are… impossibly big men, and Lúcio is smaller than average. Against the medic, they look like hulking ogres.

Still, they are no animals that will ravage their friend.

“I asked a question,” he says, trying to dip his toes into the persona that they all agreed upon. Lúcio is fully leaned against Siebren, his hands around the shaft of the good doctor’s cock as if he is afraid it could be taken from him any second now.

“I’m good,” he chirps. There is a healthy flush to his brown skin that makes him look absolutely radiant. His eyelids are heavy and his grin very broad. He is as relaxed as one can get without outright sliding off of Siebren’s lap, and with his legs spread as far as they are, Reinhardt can just about see the impossibly loose, stretched red rim of his hole. 

He reaches down unselfconsciously and first rearranges his own dick as he remembers how it had felt to have his whole _hand_ inside this little body, then shrugs his shoulders and starts to open his belt as such. As he gets out of his clothes, he stares at Siebren.

“And you, soldier?” It’s easier that way. Reinhardt is not the best suited for dominance but one of them has to be strict in order to gently bully Siebren into it. Siebren still has his hand clasped over his eyes and his head angled back, the slim nostrils of his big hawk nose fluttering as he takes settling breaths.

“I… I am fine,” he says eventually. Reinhardt licks his lips.

“We can begin, then, yes? You both know your safewords.”

“Yes!” they say in unison, one decidedly more chipper and eager than the other. Reinhardt nods. His pants are lying on the floor, erection in front of him, pointing downward in an arc as it tries to stand under its own weight.

Lúcio is staring at it like a dog might stare at a treat. Reinhardt can feel himself shiver all over, goosebumps raising all over his skin. What he really wants to do is croon at Lúcio and gentle him down all over while he rocks him on his dick like a sweet little fleshlight.

But that’s not what they’re here for tonight.

“Soldier!” he booms and both Siebren and Lúcio jerk at the sudden shift in his tone. Siebren’s cock flexes in Lúcio’s grip. Lúcio milks it like a kitten, his mouth going slack as he looks down his front and at the big old man dick that he’s holding with both fists.

He pulls down on it to expose the flushed tip, and groans softly. Reinhardt is distracted for a moment by watching Lúcio circle his little fingers beneath the rim of the crown and squeezing, thumb pressing into the little folds of skin and rubbing softly until Siebren sobs and bites his lower lip.

God, but what a sight this is.

“Soldier,” he says again, voice strong and authoritative, though now a lot more scratchy. Siebren slowly fans his fingers apart and peeks at Reinhardt. He’s older than even the old German, but right now he looks like a little boy. A little boy with a receding hairline and a cock hard enough to hammer nails.

“You only have one duty tonight,” he tells him. He steps closer until his cock is in grasping range of Lúcio, who immediately peels one hand off of Sigma and gets it first around Reinhardt’s shaft and then around his balls, weighing them and gurgling at whatever he is feeling. “You will lie down and offer your body. You can manage not to be a pussy long enough to at least do that, can’t you?”

Siebren groans softly like he’s in pain, then nods obediently. His ears are a hot pink. Reinhardt is not really in the business of insulting his team mates, but Siebren goes very soft and obedient when someone speaks to him like he is an imbecile.

Lúcio has to get off of him for him to be able to lie down properly, and Reinhardt has to help him because all his limbs seem to have become weak as cooked noodles; just uselessly flopping about.

When Siebren has put his head down, Reinhardt lets Lúcio have at him. The good doctor looks… delicious. There are whorls of salt-and-pepper hair between his pecs, wandering down his belly to where his cock is standing up like a flag pole. It is a beautiful thing; more aesthetically pleasing than Reinhardt’s own member, but he might also be biased.

He is a connoisseur of sorts.

Lúcio is all over Siebren, pressing little suckling kisses against his jaw line until the professor finally at least curls his hands around his hips.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” Lúcio croons while Reinhardt reaches between his thighs and gently curls a hand around Siebren’s cock, helping it line up with the loose hole that he’s warmed up for them earlier.

Siebren keeps his eyes clenched shut through the whole thing. He makes sounds like a little animal and Reinhardt thinks that next time they should make sure to get out the harder liquor. Siebren definitely needs to calm down more.

After Reinhardt’s fist, both of their cocks slide into Lúcio buttery smooth. It would be disturbing if the medic wasn’t so very distracting with the delirious gurgling noises he was making.

He is lying bonelessly on Siebren’s front, spread impossibly wide around their cocks, insides squeezing and twitching and keeping a warm, silky clutch on them while Reinhardt tries to calm down enough to start moving.

What he does instead is grasp Lúcio around the shoulders and pull his unresisting body upright.

Lúcio’s head is lolling, his eyes rolled up into his head. His mouth his hanging open, but somehow he managed to curl his hand around his cock and squeeze at it like his life depends on it.

Reinhard looks down his front and just has to pause and… look.

There is a massive bulge in Lúcio’s belly, and the fact that that is… _him. Him and Siebren_... is brain is stalling, not able to really process it. Lúcio looks pregnant with dick, and the little slut is still trying to coordinate a jerk-off motion.

Siebren has both hands pressed against his face, wheezing into his palms. Reinhardt can feel his big cock twitching against his.

He’s never felt anything like this in his life. It is… impossible. Beautiful.

He needs more of this.


	8. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R76 – double fisting; prostate milking – Pray for Gabriel’s ass.

Jack’s free hand is on Gabriel’s back, slowly rubbing circles into his skin while he is kneeling behind him, brows furrowed with focus.

He gently pushes against the rim and feels how soft and giving it is, and tucks his thumb into his palm for the final push inside.

Gabriel doesn’t make much if any noise. He is breathing deep and heavy, chest against the bed and fingers mindlessly clutching at it.

“I can’t do it,” he slurs when Jack is already gently nudging the widest part of his palm into his warm, silky insides. At this point it is probably more of a trained reaction to the euphoria of the immense stretch. 

Jack doesn’t make any smart remarks, just keeps rubbing his back and murmurs: “Of course you can. Just a little more. You’re doing so well-” Even though he is already wrist deep in his lover and feeling like he is going to spontaneously combust.

The sight – and the feeling – of Gabriel’s rim around his wrist will never get old.

Actually punch fucking him is... 

Jack licks his lips. He moves his arm from the shoulder down, the rest of his body staying careful and static. He nudges in and nudges back again, testing how well Gabriel’s inner muscles let him go yet.

Gabriel gurgles and bears down, his insides tensing accordingly, and Jack immediately stands still and lets him get over the need to press the massive intrusion from his body.

“There you go… good boy…” he whispers when he stops again. He reaches blindly for his other shoulder over which a towel is hanging. He dabs with it at his forehead. “Are you in pain? Does anything hurt?”

Gabriel whines high-pitched and does something that is probably supposed to be a shake of his head. He is clearly overwhelmed with the feeling of getting fisted, even though they both know he can take _even more_. Still, Jack waits for him to gather his thoughts long enough to grunt out an ill-tempered: “No.”

It is fascinating, really; how hard and competent Gabriel is outside their private lives… and how needy and broken down he becomes when he is filled with his partner’s fist and gets his guts rearranged.

Jack hums and pushes his knuckles into the squishy walls of Gabriel’s intestines.

Gabriel shouts out, hoarse and surprised, and his knees slip a bit farther apart. Jack grunts softly in recognition of it.

_So there’s his prostate…_

Sensitive as ever.

“Alright. Alright. Are you… do you still want more?”

He eyes the tub of slick next to them, precariously wobbling to and fro on the surface of the mattress as their massive bodies move and make it bounce.

Gabriel takes in a long, stuttering breath and then outright sobs. His insides clench again, and his thighs are shaking something wild. Still, he nods and rasps out: “Yes! Please!”

He’s never as polite as he is when he is asking Jack to do unspeakable things to his body. Jack takes a deep breath. He brushes one last time across the small of Gabriel’s back, then reaches over for the tub.

.o.

He’s very glad that they put some old sheets on the bed before trying this because there are impossible amounts of slick dripping from Gabriel’s cock.

At first it is just pre-cum drooling in long strands from the plump tip; and then, Jack is pretty sure it is just plain old cum as he has to twist the fist he already has inside Gabriel’s body and grinds his knuckles inadvertently against his prostate.

If Gabriel notices that he is coming from this, he does not make any of his usual groans or sighs. Jack is not too surprised, really. Having a fist and four additional fingers up his ass would distract him pretty neatly from anything else as well.

Gabriel has started crying by the second finger; just huge, inconsolable sounding sobs, but now he is very quiet and out of it again. He probably tuckered himself out with the emotional outburst and is simply lying there, ass somewhat up, taking what Jack gives him.

His rim looks… impossibly stretched. Obscene. Jack is watching himself slip his pinkie finger into Gabriel and almost hates himself for what he is doing to this gorgeous man’s body-

But Gabriel’s cock remains hard, bobbing between his thighs, and that’s really… that’s fascinating in and off itself.

The first few times they tried just one fist, Gabriel had been soft and unable to even get it up; too much of a nervous wreck to let his body react accordingly.

He’s made a lot more of a fuss with two fists, but he’s been sporting a hard-on the whole time. Jack wishes he had a hand free to gently cup Gabriel’s balls and roll them around inside the tight sac and give his lovely dick a few pumps of his fist.

But as is, he… doesn’t have a hand free. He has barely even enough brain cells not occupied with freaking out at the incredible sight to not somehow hurt Gabriel.

“You’re doing so well,” he tells him softly, his voice cracking halfway through. He tucks his thumb into his fist. He’s done it a ton of times with his other hand, building up to that last wide stretch around the ball of his thumb, but this time he feels impossibly clunky doing it.

Like he is too much of an idiot to simply fold his hand.

“Bear down for me,” he says softly, and is prepared to have to talk Gabriel through it; encourage him and baby talk at him so he’ll be calm and relaxed enough to just follow along with Jack’s instructions, but suddenly Gabriel grunts and pushes down, and Jack has to jump into action and push as well.

There is a whole lot of lube everywhere. There still is a heart stopping second where he thinks Gabriel’s rim will simply refuse this time – but then it stretches this little bit more and lets him slip in.

His heart is racing a mile a minute. He stares down at what they’ve done while Gabriel is groaning long and drawn out. Like he won’t ever stop making this fucked-out noise.

Jack can’t imagine how impossibly, mind-bendingly full Gabriel must feel. He once told him – a bit rough with embarrassment – that it feels like being pregnant.

Right now, he probably feels like he is giving birth.

Jack can’t possibly make himself move his hands, but it seems to be more than enough for Gabriel.

He just… keeps coming. And coming. And coming.

He won’t be able to sit for a week, even with his super soldier regeneration. Jack just wishes he had put up a camera so he could watch how grotesquely swollen Gabriel’s abdomen has to be.

He can’t do anything about it now; his hands are…

tied.


	9. McCree/Lúcio + Gabriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Lúcio+Gabriel – cont. B24F1 – sniff kink/sweat kink; slutty Lúcio; voyeurism; young Jesse – Jesse feels like a fish out of water but still springs to action when it is demanded of him.

It’s surreal to drop trousers in front of his commander, but that’s exactly what he is doing. Reyes is staring like he does during the training exercises, and Lúcio is behind him, still fondling the bit of fat on his belly and tugging at the ample amount of hair he can find there.

Jesse is sure his dick must try to mimic his testicles and crawl back into his body, but when he finally pulls the elastic down, it springs out, looking like a fat sausage, slowly bouncing in the warm, sweat-smelling air of the gym.

Reyes’ dark, hard eyes drop to it and watch it pathetically wiggle like a dog’s tail. Jesse just wants to die on the spot while Lúcio does not seem to have any qualms whatsoever (Jesse is starting to think he has no sense of propriety) and reaches down to dig his fingers into the thick bush of pubes he is sporting.

“Well then,” Reyes says slowly on a dangerous purr that makes Jesse’s eyes water. “You certainly can offer him the bit o’ rough that he can’t get with me.”

His eyes are still trained on Jesse’s crotch, and his wide, sensual mouth is stretched into a grin that looks more dangerous than it should. Jesse stares at how very neat his moustache and goatee are and can believe it without having seen it.

Lúcio moves all of a sudden from behind him. He does not pay Reyes much attention which Jesse thinks is very awe-inspiring all on its own. Reyes is a man that is very hard to ignore, but Lúcio pulls it off like it is no big deal.

Like Jesse’s uncut, ruddy cock is more important than their scary-as-fuck commander watching them just a few steps away with his arms folded in front of his chest and his feet a shoulder width apart as if he is watching a training exercise.

Lúcio makes a soft sound and Jesse has to look down at him. His expression is reverent and yet a bit silly, eyes almost crossing as he kneels before him and has one hand around the shaft of his dick. He leans in, and Jesse prepares for the feeling of having that hot little mouth curl around the tip of his cock, but nothing of the sort happens.

Lúcio gently pushes his cock to the side and instead buries his nose and mouth against the furry base of it. Jesse chokes on his own spit as he listens to Lúcio inhale deeply. He can feel the cool air gently ruffling his pubes, and then rushing back in warm on a low, greedy groan.

“Oh my God,” Jesse whispers, horrified all anew. “Don’t do that! I’m all-”

“Sweaty? Don’t worry about that. He lives for these things.”

Jesse looks back up at Reyes. He looks calm and collected. Almost bored. He is staring at the back of Lúcio’s head, then down the delicious slope of his back to where the little bubble ass is all but hanging out of the tiny shorts he’s donned.

“Lúcio,” he croons in a voice Jesse had never thought he’d hear of his commander. “Take those shorts off.”

Lúcio moves without taking his nose out of the forest of Jesse’s pubes. He groans and wriggles, rubbing his face against Jesse’s crotch like a cat, and before long he somehow managed to take the little shorts off.

“Ahh… just as I thought… _Someone_ was preparing to get railed in the gyms.”

Jesse presses one hand against his face. His cheeks feel impossibly hot. He can not only hear but also feel the thick pulse of blood in his ears as he tries to make sense of everything that is happening. He feels like he must still be asleep. Or maybe he stumbled right into an episode of the Twilight Zone while he was asleep.

It couldn’t be that he is standing in the middle of the gym and getting his sweaty dick and balls sniffed by this cute medic guy who apparently is sporting a… what… plug? Or some shit? All the while their commander is watching like it is nothing out of the ordinary. No big deal. _“Proceedings as per usual, get on with it, McCree!”_ et cetera, et cetera.

Lúcio has started making out with his cock without him even noticing. He’s resting his cheek against Jesse’s hipbone while he has snaked his tongue out and is slowly laving it against the hot skin right at the base of Jesse’s cock.

His hand has moved, no longer clasping the fat shaft and instead cupped around the tip, the palm doing a hypnotically slow circle motion as if he’s slowly polishing a door knob.

Jesse’s mind is all over the place.

Reyes suddenly takes a step forward and Jesse almost stumbles back in his fear of the commander. He just about manages to stand his ground, but the sardonic glance Reyes throws him tells him that he’s an open book.

Lúcio’s little hot tongue is drawing mesmerizing patterns on his dick. He stares down again, and finally reaches out, cupping Lúcio’s head gently in one palm. He would have liked to card his fingers through his hair as he is used to do with partners, but Lúcio has these neat little corn rows that makes that impossible.

He finds himself staring down at his hand, looking like a big paw as he slowly starts to brush trembling fingers between the different rows of hair. He doesn’t know how it feels to Lúcio, but the young man is not pushing him away, so he keeps at it, staring at what he can see of his face. How his eyes are closed in bliss as he is sniffing Jesse’s funky BO and plays leisurely with his cock.

And then Reyes is there, crouching down behind Lúcio, hand reaching for his ass. Jesse can’t quite see what he is doing, but Lúcio is groaning softly, the sound ending on a high, vulnerable note.

There’s a wet sound and a pop that shoots right to Jesse’s hindbrain. He’s heard that a few times in his life – when pulling out of a nice, used-up hole, slow and steady, limbs warm and loose from shooting his load.

It’s like a switch has been flipped just with that one lewd little noise. Reyes is holding a plug between his fingers; a pretty little thing with a fake green emerald glittering at the base.

He just watches calmly as Lúcio is being dragged away by the commander, deposited across a buck and held down with a big hand against the back of his neck.

Jesse comes closer without having to be prompted. Lúcio is already reaching back and helpfully spreading his cheeks long before he’s close enough to let his cock sniff at that sweet little hole.

It is glistening and wet and gaping invitingly. It looks impossibly soft – and feels like it, too, when he sinks in. It just spreads and takes, not a hitch or a pause as it swallows his cock down and Lúcio sighs like someone who is taking a nice hot bath at the end of a hard day of work sighs.

“Give it to him,” Reyes orders stern and no-nonsense, and Jesse jumps to action.


	10. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R76 – cont B24F9 – somnophilia mention; oviposition; mpreg talk – Gabriel has to make the decision from last time. And Jack’s a pervert, but that’s nothing new.

“I said you could _fuck_ me, not do _weird_ shit to me,” Gabriel rasps. He can’t believe how swollen he feels. He glances down, and he could swear that his tight belly is a bit swollen from however many… many _things_ Jack has pushed into him.

He feels himself go hot and cold at the knowledge that he doesn’t know how many Jack has popped into him. Or how big they were. Or, really, _what_ they were.

“It was pretty hot, though,” Jack says, sounding nervous but also unrepentant. His erection is still poking at Gabriel’s hip, his breath fanning across Gabriel’s ear and the side of his face. When he slowly reaches down to rub with two hands across his belly like a pregnant woman would, Jack makes a sound like a dying moose.

“You just took one after another,” he whispers hectically like the fucking pervert he is. “I could push you full with however many I wanted… You just groaned and spread your legs more like you were hot for it, Gabe. You’re a real natural. A real slut. Even when you’re asleep you want to just be filled…”

Gabriel swallows hard. He wants to knock him out or at least dig his elbow into his side but he can’t make himself do it. There is heat and cold washing through his body in waves. His abdomen is vaguely cramping as if he had gotten an enema, and the feeling really isn’t too dissimilar.

He doesn’t like enemas.

But he likes feeling full.

He turns his head away, his big hands on his abdomen. He definitely can feel a little swell there.

“You’re a goddamn pervert,” he rasps. Jack doesn’t react to it other than a distracted little hum. It’s nothing new to either of them, and Gabriel thinks that Jack might even take it as a compliment at this point. He probably thinks that it is a testament to his sexual prowess or some shit.

This fucking idiot, he-

“They’re gelatinous orbs, in case you were wondering. The substance is in itself magnetic and they hang on together. They’re pretty firm at the beginning but as time goes by and with body heat added, they become mushier and mushier… I think it takes about… three hours or so?”

He licks his lips and leans himself up on one elbow, reaching out and grasping Gabriel’s chin to pull his head back towards himself and make him lock eyes. 

Gabriel honestly has no idea why he is in love with a pervert. Jack looks a bit deranged; like he’d go out on the street and flash people his dick in trucker lots, but Gabriel kind of digs that look. He likes knowing that he does that to Jack and drives him mad with lust.

Just by… by lying there, and sleeping innocently so Jack can do whatever sick thing comes to his mind.

Fuck.

Maybe Gabriel is a pervert, too.

“What do you want?” Jack croons, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Do you want to… wait? They’ve only been in there for half an hour or so… You could… waddle around… and wait for them to dissolve…”

He is breathing deeply, heavily, staring down Gabriel’s body in a long, slow sweep. Gabriel feels exposed and vulnerable and very, very hot. The thought of… of waddling about with a gut full of some weird slimy eggs has the little hairs all along his body stand up at attention.

“No!” he hisses like he is shocked at the suggestion and not secretly very turned on. His cheeks are pounding with a flush of embarrassment, and his cock, the traitorous bastard, is starting to lift and take notice of the whole situation.

Jack’s mouth opens as he starts breathing through it deep and slow, like he has to consciously make himself calm the fuck down.

“So you’ll… push them out?” he rasps and slowly places his hand on Gabriel’s pectoral, grabbing on to it slightly; like he just _has_ to touch Gabriel. Like not touching him when he is lying there stuffed full with Jack’s… Jack’s _eggs_ is completely out of the question.

Gabriel can’t bring himself to push him away, so he just lets him feel him up. This bloated feeling is impossible and all-encompassing. He feels like he should be a lot bigger than he actually is, and there is a little voice at the back of his head that _insists_ that he is unable to even roll around on his side, now that he’s pushed himself onto his back.

That he is lying here at Jack’s mercy. The thought of… of pushing the eggs outside… of… birthing them while Jack is getting off on it like the fucking perverted bastard he is, is just as forbidden and horrible (hot… so hot…) as walking around with the clutch slowly dissolving in his guts until he really does have to run to the bathroom.

“You’re such a fucking creep,” Gabriel wheezes and lifts one arm to drape across his eyes so he at least doesn’t have to look at Jack’s face for a moment. “I can’t believe this shit…”

“But you love it, don’t you?” Jack says softly. Gabriel jerks and grunts in surprise when he feels Jack’s hand gently curl around his cock. He can feel the calluses on his palms tug at the sensitive skin. It’s a bit painful if he grips too hard, but Gabriel likes that sensation. He’s started associating it with Jack and with pleasure.

He starts to feel like Jack has very neatly trained him into a pervert as well.

“I do,” he admits softly and finally starts to lift his knees, shuffling his feet apart a bit.

“So?” Jack rasps. He sounds excited. “What do you want?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Gabriel hisses. Jack, mercifully, lets him go. He moves to sit between Gabriel’s spread thighs.

“I’ll help you with them,” he says softly, voice lilting just a little as if he were a good, sweet farm boy. “And then I’ll fuck you… You’ll be all soft and wet and ready for it…”

“Fucking bastard,” Gabriel gasps, but he can’t deny how much he likes the thought of it when his cock is jerking in Jack’s grip, the tip all wet with excitement when he starts dragging his thumb across it in slow, relentless circles.

Gabriel bears down experimentally and is shocked to find that the mass inside his gut actually does start to move down. The feeling is as alien as it is familiar. He lifts his other arm as well now, pressing both hands against his hot, embarrassed face as he presses down with a grunt until he can feel the first, gelatinous mass filling his sphincter and spreading it apart.

“Fuck… you look so hot like this,” Jack croons, stupidly excited. He can feel him carefully grasp for the egg as soon as he can, and then Jack pulls - and Gabriel is not sure if it is a side-effect of whatever mass the eggs have been formed with, or whether it is simply his imagination, but it feels like his insides are burning up just from the friction of the mass getting pulled from him in a seemingly unending stream.

His mouth falls open, first silent, then groaning long and drawn out the longer Jack pulls and drags more and more of the eggs out of Gabriel.

It feels like it is not ending. He can’t make himself look. He is afraid just how many of them Jack has managed to stuff into him.

When the last egg pops out, Gabriel is shocked by the sudden orgasm that takes him. He howls, hands sliding up from his face so his fingers can grip at his hair mercilessly as his cock kicks in Jack’s hand and shoots thick ropes of cum out over his belly while his empty hole is gaping and fluttering slightly, his insides on fire.

Perverts. The both of them.


	11. Genji/Zenyatta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji/Zenyatta – cont of [this fic](https://cyberrat.tumblr.com/post/172383800867/genyatta-for-my-bae) (Tumblr link) – Omega!Zenyatta; Alpha!Genji; edging; subspace; first time – Genji finally gets to come but...

The little Omega is absolutely out of his mind. It’s a little scary for sure; but Genji feels like he’s been dragged kicking and screaming up a hill and now he has hit the plateau at the very top, and everything feels… calm. Tranquil.

His cock is still painfully hard and sending jittery waves of anticipation through his body, but they do not quite reach his brain. His body still alerts him to sparks of sensation when Zenyatta gently feathers a touch across one of his pebbled nipples, but it does not produce the immediate whiny ‘I need to come now’ reaction.

The Omega is still sitting on his lap, cool and collected as anything. He’s never seen an Omega this… calm (superior) – all the while being able to smell his creamy little cunt with an intensity that actually _hurts_ something in the back of his head. It’s a primal need; as primal as wanting to rabbit fuck into the Omega’s belly and put a few pups in there.

Zenyatta smiles at him slowly as if he’s said any of it out loud, and lifts himself again minimally until Genji pops out of that buttery soft hole the tip of his cock had been snuggled into.

Genji draws in a long, shuddering breath and lets his head fall back. He can’t even bring up a word of protest when Zenyatta climbs off of his lap. He feels like he is floating on some sort of cloud. It is a better feeling than being stoned or drunk, but it is also a bit scary.

“Genji.” Zenyatta’s voice is gentle and coaxing; very different to how ruthlessly efficient he can built Genji up to the cusp of a roaring orgasm and then leave him hanging without an ounce of guilt on his tranquil, pretty face.

Genji slowly lifts his head. In his book, the options of things other than _listening to Zenyatta_ are diminishing quickly. It’s like the little Omega is taking an eraser to every single one of them. They certainly don’t seem as appealing as obeying the Omega’s every single wish for the option of jerking off onto his pretty cock.

Zenyatta is standing there, his slim, brown cock still hanging out of his opened pants. It looks so damn delicious. Genji is not really in the habit of sucking Omega dick, but damn. _Damn_, it just looks so tasty.

He startles a little at the feeling of warm, smooth fingers beneath his chin, tilting his head up. He hadn’t even realized how he slumped forward in his bonds to stare at Zenyatta’s cock like a starving man at a feast.

Zenyatta is smiling at him, slow and calm. It makes his gently slanted eyes crinkle a bit at the corners. Genji is… honestly stunned. He sits up a bit straighter and swallows, heat flushing his cheeks.

“Genji,” Zenyatta says again as if he has fun speaking his name. Omegas are cute like that. Genji blinks slowly once, twice, then realizes he should answer.

“Uh. Yeah?”

“What have you been looking for tonight? When you went to that club?”

He tilts his head a little. If Genji couldn’t smell it, he would say the pretty Omega isn’t affected at all by the thick smell of a potent Alpha in his nest. But. He _can _scent him; floral and sweet and a bit oppressive all around him. Interested but somehow managing to be so damnably calm.

He can’t fathom to have a _conversation_ now, but he sees Zenyatta starting to open the buttons of his sensible little shirt and when it becomes clear Genji isn’t answering, he stops – and Genji can’t have that. He needs to at least get this weird little Omega out of his clothes tonight.

“I uh… Just… a bit of company.”

He tries to scramble for every bit of brain he can still grasp. It is difficult when he is completely naked, though, with a ready and willing Omega _right there_. Zenyatta hums and pops the first two buttons of his shirt, giving Genji the barest hint of a slim, brown chest, and _God_, he is going to shoot his load at the first sight of a nipple at this point.

His knot is pulsing something fierce. It is painful and distracting.

Zenyatta keeps smiling at him slow and serene, his slim fingers continuing to tease the buttons open.

“You were probably looking for a bit of more… traditional company,” Zenyatta says, and Genji… honestly wants him to keep talking. His deep voice is hypnotic; gentle and soothing and making something antsy and anxious in his chest unravel until a curious soft warmth begins to spread through his body. “But I feel like we can have fun regardless. You’re having fun, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Genji murmurs, head slowly bobbing up and down. Zenyatta has his shirt almost completely open. He pauses now and smiles at Genji wide and happy like a cat, then parts his shirt and bends a little forward to let him see his nipples; a darker brown than his skin, and deliciously pudgy looking. Genji wants to taste them.

He feels like he’s gotten rewarded for something and is eager to continue.

“You’re so cute, Genji!” Zenyatta says, and it should make Genji’s hackles rise – he’s a big powerful Alpha, after all – but he only flushes more, and his whole body tries to angle forward into the sun that his Zenyatta, a vaguely confused whine slithering from his throat as he is reminded of the bindings keeping him fixed to the chair. “I think you really deserve a reward. Look at you sitting there, playing along so sweetly. It has been a while since I had an Alpha so well-behaved.”

Genji preens. He’s forgotten who he is. What he is. He’s forgotten what the heck he’s done before coming to the little Omega’s apartment. He remembers the need to mount and breed the creamy little cunt, but it takes a step back when Zenyatta slips his opened shirt off and lets his pants follow.

Just like that, he suddenly is naked, and Genji sits back almost violently and digs his heels against the floor because his cock is flexing and the need to come is so vivid he has to scramble not to.

Zenyatta sits on Genji’s knees and carefully cups his flexing cock in his palm. Alarms flash in Genji’s head.

“N-No!” he cries out a lot sharper than he probably should have. “I can’t… you can’t touch it, I’m… fuck…”

Zenyatta smiles at him tranquil, keeping a soft hold of his cock, calm and sure; not in the least daunted by the agitated, loud Alpha.

“That is quite alright,” he tells him and directs Genji’s cock until it is pointing at his own crotch. “This will not be the first time you get to come tonight. I would savor it if I were you, Genji. I feel like you won’t enjoy the other times quite as much.”

Zenyatta’s warm, supple hand begins pumping him, and for the first time in Genji’s life he finds himself scrambling _not_ to come. He wants to prolong this evening as much as possible. He wants to know more about this Omega. He wants to stay in his nest, curled up and serene.

Yet Zenyatta is as cruel here as he’s been all night. He smiles at him all sweet and understanding, but his hand does not stop pumping, thumb dragging across the tip – and then his other hand is there as well, cupping Genji’s vulnerable knot, squeezing down on it…

And just like that he practically milks the orgasm out of Genji who is howling and sobbing and pressing his forehead against Zenyatta’s shoulder, pathetically grateful that he is allowed the contact.


	12. McCree/Reaper + Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McReaper + Soldier76 – cont B24F11 – more predicament bondage; itching paste as lube (just... just go along with it ok :) ); short mention of a bowel movement that is not happening; rape tw, non con tw, just to be sure – Jack gets in on the fray of giving Jesse his for his play with Gabriel.

There’s a heavy knock on the door, jerking Reyes out of his reverie and McCree out of his cum-dumb haze.

“Reyes!” a rough voice barks outside. “You began without me?!”

McCree, seemingly seeing his chance at escape immediately starts singing like a bird.

“Heeelp! I-I need heeelp!”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, a sardonic grin on his lips. “I’ll get you help,” he murmurs under his breath as he makes his way over to the door, a slight hitch in his step from the erection he is sporting.

He punches in the access code and the door slides open to reveal Jack in his whole Strike Commander regalia with a small-ish box in his hands. Gabriel lifts one eyebrow, looking him up and down but stepping to the side.

“You don’t think that’s a bit too much to let him see?” he drawls while Jack pushes his way inside and takes stock of the situation, mouth pulling down as he sees the cum splattered on the floor and McCree still awkwardly dangling, his toes just about trying to brace himself on the floor.

“As if anybody would believe a desert mutt,” Jack murmurs as he walks over to the desk and plonks the little box down.

Gabriel follows along immediately, pulling the top open to look inside while McCree’s slightly shaking voice can be heard asking: “W-who’s that?”

None of them answers. They’ve done this – or… close to this – often enough that they are a well-oiled machine.

Gabriel reaches into the box and pulls out a bottle of lube and a packet of condoms. He lifts an eyebrow, glancing at Jack to the side who just nudges him encouragingly and nods towards the lube before he turns and makes his way over to Jesse.

He makes sure to stomp his boots against the floor as he makes his way around him. McCree is shaking again, turning his head and trying to figure out who has come into the room. His whole body is flushed a dark ruddy red as Jack hums when he crouches down to let him know he is currently taking a look at his cock – which is still hard despite the bit of cum continuing to dribble from the tip.

“Nice cock, McCree.”

Jack reaches out and flicks rudely against the tip. McCree cries out both in shock at the sudden sensation and the pain of getting his cock flicked at. He nervously starts dancing on the spot but can’t get far with the hook still holding his ass up and letting him just-about touch the floor with his feet.

It is digging into his insides, spreading him wide and ready for one of them to fuck, and McCree’s cheeks become darker by the minute as he seems to figure that out slowly.

“Who are you?” he asks with an adorable whine to his voice that makes him sound a lot younger than he actually is.

By now Gabriel has rolled an extra thick condom over his dick and put on the latex gloves that had been in Jack’s box as well.

“You don’t need to concern yourself with those little things, McCree. You should instead focus on what is going to happen to you,” he calls over from the other side of the room. McCree shudders, goosebumps rising all over his skin, nipples standing hard at attention while Jack is grumbling at not being ‘little’.

“What do you mean?”

But neither of them answers. Jack looks over at Gabriel askance and when he nods, he stands up again with a last teasing flick against Jesse’s cock to walk around their prey. Jesse sounds close to hyperventilating when he realizes that the newcomer is starting to fiddle with the fat hook spearing into him, and then sobs in elation when the contraption is pulled from his trembling insides and he is left to finally stand properly on both feet – if just so. His arms are still tethered to the ceiling and not giving much room to play as Gabriel steps close, cock awkwardly bouncing out of his open pants.

It is wet with the lube he has smeared onto it, and he takes care not to touch it as he clasps Jesse’s hips with both hands and tries to line up.

“What’re ya doin’? Hey! S-Stop…” McCree tries to pull away as he feels the first wet nudge against his gaping hole, but Jack steps in front of him; not touching, just… being there… ominous and foreboding and dissuading the blindfolded man from continuing the escape out front.

“We’re not done having fun, Jesse,” Gabriel croons from behind, frowning as he looks down in concentration until finally the tip catches on Jesse’s brick red swollen rim and he can glide inside impossibly easy.

“What are you doin’?!” Jesse asks, voice pitched high with alarm. His insides are… hot. Impossibly so. He clenches down immediately, and neither Jack nor Gabriel say a word as they wait for the paste he put on his dick to register in Jesse’s brain.

They don’t have to wait long. Jesse groans low and punched out, body shuddering as he tries to mindlessly pull away and just walks directly into the broad, unrelenting wall of Jack’s chest.

“Wha… Whassat?” he asks with a slur, fat pearls of sweat springing up along his hairline as Gabriel can feel his insides becoming positively molten in heat.

“Just a nice little itching paste,” Jack tells him with an almost gentle voice. McCree is panting like a dog, his tongue full on hanging out of his skull as his body tries to comprehend what it is feeling. It has to be a lot more overwhelming with the blindfold on.

“Whu?”

He is moving without himself realizing, it seems. Gabriel can lean his upper body back some and watch the beauty as McCree’s body begins to move – first a slow little rocking motion that quickly begins to escalate. He is trying to find more purchase on the floor but can’t quite make it to his satisfaction.

He is sobbing uncontrollably and Jack, the eternal sap, is brushing fingers through McCree’s sweat drenched hair and eventually even unties the blindfold.

If he recognizes the prominent figure of the Strike Commander, he does not say so. Instead, he buries his face against Jack’s chest and bawls his eyes out right against his many medals while he fucks himself on Gabriel’s cock to somehow make the tingling heat stop.

Gabriel is breathing hard, eyes closed, brows furrowed in concentration. He braces one hand between McCree’s shoulder blades. The other is curled around his hip, grasping his cock loosely to let him fuck into it. He’s no monster, after all; and he _does_ want McCree on his team after all of this is said and done.

After he asserted his dominance.

McCree’s insides are doing the darndest things. He is like an oven; sweating bullets as he swears up and down that his belly is cramping and he’s going to shit himself if Reyes doesn’t pull out.

Reyes doesn’t, of course, and McCree can keep his bowel movement to himself as well.

What he does do, is come spectacularly on Gabriel’s cock, his cum as feverishly hot as his body as he howls against Jack’s chest and just has to keep fucking himself on Gabriel to stop the tingling sensation in his anus.

Gabriel doesn’t keep himself from reaching his climax. He grunts softly, leisurely rocking his hips as he fills the condom, a deep sense of contentment radiating through his body that had been somewhat missing since his little stint in the Gorge.

Payback’s a bitch and all that.


	13. Lúcio/McCree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio/McCree – sniff kink; stink kink; ball/armpit worship – Jesse and Lúcio are just really into the sniffing thing ok??

Lúcio is waiting for McCree to come back like a child might be waiting for Santa. 

He has prepared everything: a cool beer on the side table, not yet opened; Jesse’s favorite show running on the TV; towels generously laid out over his armchair so the funk he is building up right now on the running track will not seep into the fabric.

And then he has to wait, standing next to the armchair; bouncing on the balls of his feet. He is just wearing a tanktop and some loose little pants that are nonetheless lifted at the front in deference of his excited erection.

His heart makes a leap when Jesse finally, _finally_ walks in. A wide grin is spreading his face, palms instantly wet. He tries to dry them on the fabric of his clothes but seeing how drenched Jesse is makes it really difficult. 

Jesse is still breathing heavily, shoulders somewhat slumped. When he looks up and sees Lúcio standing there, dimples and all, so fucking _excited_ for what’s to come, he groans and shakes his head in fond exasperation.

“You’re a nutcase, kid. But I played along, so I’m just as much of a perv, I guess.” He reaches up to untangle the little hairband he’s used to hold the strands back (they’ve gotten too long), and it isn’t lost on him how Lúcio’s dark eyes immediately zero in on the prominent dark spot beneath his arm.

“Little freak,” he says fondly, a smile slowly appearing on his lips. Lúcio squirms with a happy little wriggle of his ass that is way too adorable for what they’re about to do. God, the kid is cute. Even when he’s begging Jesse to go running just so he can come home sweaty and smelling for Lúcio to… enjoy.

“Alright… how d’you want it? Want me ta get naked?”

He is already grabbing the bottom of his grey Overwatch-issued pullover and pulls it up and over his head.

“Yeah, uh… you can… you can leave the undershirt on.”

Jesse, who had already been playing with the hem of said undershirt, eyes Lúcio with a sly grin.

“Oh yeah? An’ everythin’ else off?”

“...Yes, please.”

Jesse groans. He can’t even be an asshole when Lúcio is being so sweet and polite about it. He toes off his sneakers and fiddles with the drawstring of his sweatpants. His head is tilted forward to watch himself do it but he is watching Lúcio through the stringy curtain of his unbrushed hair.

Lúcio looks like he is almost vibrating on the spot, hands firmly clasped in front of him. A bulge in the front of his little shorts.

Jesse can’t say he’s _never_ had partners into this particular kind of kink – a man like him kind of… has a gravitational pull concerning them, he guesses – but he’s never had any that are as sweet about it as Lúcio. Just so disarmingly earnest.

He hooks his thumbs into the waistbands of both his sweats and shorts and pulls them down in one go, eyes still on Lúcio. It’s kind of gratifying to see his reaction even if it isn’t the first time he’s gotten naked in front of him.

Lúcio always gets this kind of dopey look about him when he stares at Jesse’s dick, even soft as it is now.

“Well, then. Let’s get this show on the road, huh?” he drawls as he swaggers towards the prepared armchair. When he passes Lúcio, he already looks a bit out of it. He’s following him with his nose, probably getting whiffs of the thick scent of sweat wafting off of Jesse. Shit, the kid’s got it bad.

He sits down with a groan, situating his junk and himself into a comfortable manspread, and by the time he looks up, Lúcio has already opened the bottle of beer he’s spied at the very first when entering, and is thrusting it into Jesse’s face.

He chuckles and accepts it with a rough: “Thanks.” He takes a swig, drawing it out while he makes a show out of looking Lúcio up and down. The kid looks like it is about to shake out of his skin. There’s heat radiating off of him. It’s too dark in the room to see if his cheeks are flushed but Jesse just knows that they’ll be burning to the touch.

“C’mere, then,” he rasps after thickly swallowing the mouth full of beer. Just a moment after, Lúcio is on his lap and is hugging him as much as possible. Just cuddling close to this hairy, stinking old man that McCree has become.

God, he’s lucky. He leans his head back with closed eyes for now, letting the show play in the background and just focuses on Lúcio. The medic is resting for a moment as well, his breathing slow and very deep.

When he moves and carefully nudges at McCree’s left arm, he obediently lifts it up to give him access to his hairy armpit. The air of the room is cool and tickling as it brushes across the thick hair there, plastered to his body with wetness.

Lúcio is right in it, nudging his nose against the sensitive crease – and taking a deep whiff of the aroma.

Jesse can’t help but get turned on by it. It is awkward and a bit embarrassing and weird, but by God… having this sexy young man on his lap, sniffing at his sweaty pits, and… yes… getting a shy little taste of them as well…

Fuck. It’s… It’s really doing it for him.

Lúcio is mashing his face in there and groaning low and punched out. He’s got one of his hands clenched between his thighs. It’s only been a few minutes and he already is rocking just a little bit; fucking his wet cock against his palm through the fabric of his shorts. His other hand is clenched in the front of Jesse’s undershirt; just holding on for dear life while he sniffs, and occasionally kitten licks to his heart’s content.

Jesse is deeply into it. It’s almost trance-like, to be quite honest; sitting there, swigging bear, and having a cute twink sniff at his armpit. He’s a nice, warm weight on his lap.

Until he isn’t anymore.

Jesse groans for himself, trying to blearily grab at him, but Lúcio is between his thighs now and nobody, not even Talon, could get him away from Jesse’s sweaty ballsac.

He really gets in there; ducks down and wedges his head in until Jesse can see his balls lying across the kid’s face while he feels the soft gusts of his breath in the humid, fragrant crease where his balls go over into his taint.

“Shit… Lúcio… fuck…” he rasps and lifts one leg, hooking it over the arm of the armchair to open himself up more.

They’re both sick, but damn… it’s nice. Really fucking nice. Lúcio sounds like he doesn’t take more than sniff Jesse McCree’s sweaty ballsac to get off and the thought is really good. He’s squeezing his own dick while Lúcio moves back just enough to have the hot, hairy balls drag across his cheek before he can suck one nut into his mouth to try and nurse on it.

His eyelids are heavy, gaze unfocused.

He’s getting high on the whole experience and damn… Jesse would do his workout routine every damn day just to have this waiting for him at home.


	14. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – gloryhole; cockslut Reaper; gunplay – Right what it says on the tin.
> 
> (The first part of the fic has been posted somewhere else which I don't want to name on AO3 as it involves money. If you want to find out more, check out my tumblr :) )
> 
> First part and second part are separated by ---

Gabriel Reyes has had a secret that he never really intended as one: he likes cocks. Loves ‘em, really. He’s never been ashamed of the fact, but it never really came up in polite conversation, either.

He’s liked having them ram up his ass until he felt like he just had to taste them in the back of his throat. He’s liked to have them beneath him so he could sit himself down on them, riding them until they gave him their cream and made his belly feel full and warm.

He’s liked being on his knees and fucking his throat on them until tears started running down his cheeks, eyes rolling up into his head with lack of oxygen. Feeling like he’s full to the brim with nothing but big fat dicks that at least try to satisfy the constant itch under his skin to be owned and fucked and utilized.

It hasn’t been a secret, but others have made it one; they hadn’t wanted to see it. He’s been big and broad with thick, round muscles and a shorn head, so they wanted him as a daddy and not as the one spreading his ass with both hands and begging with a failing voice to be put through his paces and have his tender little cunt rawed until it was swollen plump and obscene.

Years later, Reaper has the same secret. Being a medical abomination has not changed anything in his desires; a fact that he’s had to learn the hard way, trying to satisfy himself on his fingers first and then illegally obtained toys later, just to realize that they just… won’t be enough. That they can’t emulate the feeling of being nicely spread on a living fat cock and have a pair of big hands hold on to his hips to pull him back onto it…

It’s made even more difficult this time around to get his fix. Overwatch is seemingly everywhere, watching his every move, always searching and hoping to snatch him up – and the fact that he is looking like a corpse, a big scar bisecting his torso, skin a pallid ashen hue… it does not make it any easier to finally get laid; to just spread his thighs and let someone have at him and fuck him until he doesn’t have to think about anything else but the massive cock drilling into his guts and making it so very difficult to breathe.

It’s driven him up a wall, quite frankly. It drove him close to tears more often than he’d like to admit; this need to get his belly filled and just be fucked nice and hard and thorough. It is embarrassing just how much he needs it; to be held down and made to feel cock, but it is even more embarrassing how long it had taken him to figure out how to get what he is craving.

By now, however, he’s made it into an art. Making out the nearest seedy glory hole establishment and slipping inside hidden beneath a cloak. Hoping to whoever fucking watches that Overwatch hasn’t followed him this time and will not raid the place while he is there with his legs spread and his cunt full of cock while his own dick is happily swinging along.

He’s known for a long while about these glory hole bars; back when he’s been in SEP… maybe even before that, but he’s never paid them much mind. They never pinged as an option on his radar, and he could still kick himself for his own stupidity.

They are glorious, really. He just has to push himself through a hole until the soft rubber is snug around the cinch of his waist and then needs to do nothing but let himself get serviced.

Nobody fucking cares about him being a huge muscled guy or about the gray of his skin when they are presented with his thick thighs and fat ass.

He doesn’t have to do much. He just has to figure out whether he’d rather spent the night on his back or on his belly; whether he wants to stick out his ass and let them see how nice and round it is, or whether he wants one of the guys working there to put his knees into stirrups until he is helplessly suspended and showing off like the whore that he feels like.

Sometimes it is less of a question of how he feels and more of a question of whether or not he thinks that Overwatch might be on to him and he’ll have to be able to get away quickly. Those evenings aren’t quite as satisfying as the ones where he can just let himself be, but he’s greedy enough for dick that the feeling of having to scramble for an escape at any second is not keeping him away from presenting his ass like the greediest cunt on earth.

He loves the establishments that will offer their customers the opportunity to purchase sharpies. And he loves those that are not so goddamn cheap and even buy them for the exorbitant amount of money.

He loves when they fuck him and scrawl dirty slurs onto his ass; when they put tally marks on his thighs or draw crude cocks and arrows on him as if there were any chance somebody could not find the mark of his gaping, fucked loose hole.

He loves being in a rundown building afterwards, thighs still burning satisfyingly from spreading them so wide all night long, and trying to look at his fat ass with a little hand mirror to see what he has been adorned with this time.

Reaper just… he just loves being a dirty whore. A thing. Nothing but a cunt that strange men want to pull on their dicks, not caring for whoever it is that is attached to the hips sticking out of the hole.

Once or twice he even broke into the bars just to watch the footage; see man after man lining up behind him to fuck him; tall, short, fat, skinny… He doesn’t care. He never has. He cares as little about them as they care about him; all he is interested in is what they sport between their thighs – or just how interestingly they can use their fingers.

What is currently being pressed against his loose, glistening hole is neither of the two. It is big and cool and hard.

Metal, his mind supplies immediately. His fingers slowly curl around the edges of the bank he is lying on belly down. He stares straight ahead, blood pumping in his ears and making it difficult to hear the slapping of skin and groaning all around him.

He’s been dicked for three hours. He has lost count of how many cocks he’s serviced. He can feel their slick running out of his used-up cunt. This one is different, though. Wildly different.

There is a hand on his ass, but the texture is weird. His brain has been fucked into a hot scrambled mess and it takes him a little to realize that whoever is pressed up close behind him is wearing gloves.

It is not completely uncommon; but the metal object being pressed against his loose hole definitely is. It does not feel like the sharpie. Some men have fucked him with that just to get a good laugh before becoming too impatient and replacing it with their dicks.

This object feels far bigger. Weirdly shaped.

He squirms and whines, and the man shifts, seemingly leaning over his back, and suddenly there is a very familiar, rough voice rasping through the laughably thin dividing wall: “Don’t move a muscle…”

Reaper freezes. His nanites freeze, too. For just a second, all the buzzing and humming beneath his skin is quiet before his heart picks up beating twice as fast.

Soldier.

He should dissolve into smoke and slide away, but he doesn’t.

Soldier is pressing the metal object more insistently against his rim, and the second the weirdly shaped tip presses inside, Reaper finally realizes what it is: he is trying to fuck him on a handgun. The man is pressed close, shielding what he is doing by his body.

“Finally found you…” Soldier murmurs. He pushes in deeper. The muzzle of the gun is not long at all and soon Reaper can feel the finger guard bumping against his perineum. He is hot all over, insides clenching and twisting in on themselves.

He is staring straight ahead, mouth open and soft. His cock is still hard; nobody has paid it any attention except for the occasional flat-handed slap that made him gurgle on his own spit.

“Offering your fat ass to these drunks and addicts… thought you were a more classy bitch than that.”

Reaper is starting to breathe again all of a sudden, panting quick little puffs against the faux leather of the bench he is lying on. The Soldier is fucking him on the two inches of gun. Reaper has no idea if he’s put the safety on or not and the knowledge is making him even hotter.

Soldier’s voice sounds… disgusted. It trickles up Reaper’s spine like sharp tips of fingernails and nestles at the base of his skull.

He can hear the cap of a sharpie being opened. He shuffles his feet farther apart and bears down on the gun, feeling his obscene rim pout outward, cum of strangers trickling out slimy and gross. 

And then the fun finally begins.

\---

“You’re a difficult man to find, Reaper,” Soldier croons through the partition separating them. Reaper doesn’t answer anything. He is keeping nice and perfectly still; only his hole smacking as it suckles on the gun that’s been fucked into his guts.

It’s not nearly as long or as wide as any of the cocks he likes to fuck, but he is impossibly, absolutely aware of its presence. Soldier could parade him around a square with it right now; Reaper would prance for him like the most obedient pony at the slightest nudge to one side or another.

“Nothing to say for yourself?” Soldier asks after a few heavy breaths. Reaper can almost feel the air tickling against the back of his neck. He… wishes he could. His brain is already scrambled good from getting fucked, and wanting his old nemesis to breathe against him like an old lecher doesn’t ping as anything he should worry about.

He keeps quiet still and Soldier grunts, a little annoyed sounding. He digs the gun a little deeper still, and Reaper feels like he can feel a finger past the finger guard pressed against him.

The thought of Soldier’s finger on the trigger of a loaded gun he’s fucking him on is… wow. His insides _spasm_ and his knees make him dip down for a second before he can lock them back into place.

Soldier laughs at him, low and soft. It’s like they’re in their own little bubble of privacy even though all around them are still men being fucked. Reaper wonders what Soldier is looking like right now. He can’t imagine him in his colorful Soldier: 76 getup, but there are still the gloves and the handgun…

“Let’s see…”

Reaper almost jerks when he feels the unassuming tip of a sharpie being pressed somewhere to the left of his tailbone. The tip is a bit cool and definitely familiar. Reaper’s pulse immediately starts racing, his cock feeling heavy and overly full with the anticipation of what he will find later on when he will twist and turn, trying to see what Soldier has left him with.

“Easy now. We’re having all night, don’t we? No need to rush things…”

Reaper hadn’t realized he was vibrating, nanites buzzing until his teeth hurt in his skull, until Soldier’s voice made him try and be as still as possible.

The sharpie leaves tickling lines against his skin, and he closes his eyes, trying to somehow feel what the Soldier is putting on him.

He definitely can make out an arrow being drawn on him; perfectly straight down his ass crack. He groans long and drawn out. Fuck… yea…

(And later he will find out Soldier scrawled Second-hand. Free to use above the arrow.)

“I’m glad I could finally track you down, you know,” he continues even before he has finished the arrow. After a second, Reaper can feel him again on his upper thigh, just beneath the meat of his ass.

(Slap me. Make it hurt.)

“I’m all alone this time. I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to do any of this were any of my teammates here. It would’ve robbed us of a lot of fun.”

He scrawls something on his left ass cheek. (Jiggle jiggle, fat ass) Reaper can feel his eyes rolling up into his head. His hole is working furiously around the gun, the sound lewd and smackin; a hungry mouth sucking on a lollipop with fervor. His whole body is feeling… so hot. He knows Soldier will be able to feel it radiating off of him like a furnace.

“You’re so excited to see me. It’s adorable. Do you like being fucked by a gun?” He pulls the gun back with a jerk and stuffs it rudely back inside. Reaper can feel some more cum starting to drip out from him, a shudder tickling up his spine. He can’t even say how many men had used him before Soldier had come along.

He wonders if he’s stood just a few feet away the whole time; watching like an old lecher. Maybe with his wrinkly old dick out, stroking it while younger men fucked Reaper and felt like studs.

He really… really wants Soldier’s cock.

“I asked you something,” he says sharply suddenly, some of the joviality leaving his voice. Reaper bites at the ball of his right thumb. He needs to gather himself, carefully extracting his teeth again before he rasps a breathy: “Yeah… I like it…”

“Hmmm… there he is… Like it more than getting fucked by a dick, do you?”

He rams the short bit of metal up and down Reaper’s hole, fucking him in the most obtuse way possible. Reaper bristles and hisses, even though he can feel his cock reacting to the treatment anyway; it doesn’t matter to his libido what is fucking him – or how skilled.

“No… I-”

“You want a cock, then. At least you have some standards… I guess?” He pulls the gun out and Reaper can almost feel the strings of cum clinging to the muzzle and stretching long. Soldier scoffs, sounding wholly disgusted, and then wipes the weapon against the back of Reaper’s thigh.

“I should make it good for you… I don’t think you’ll get cock any time soon where you’ll be going after this.”

Soldier’s rough voice is easily travelling through the thin wall. Reaper’s ears are attuned to it, filtering out the sounds of groans and slapping all around them. His body is taut like a bow, almost vibrating as he feels big hands cupping his narrow waist, and something warm and blunt nudging against his hole.

The threat should not make him hornier, but… well. He is digging his nails so hard into the faux leather that he is starting to tear into it. His whole being is focused on the feeling of Soldier slowly, smoothly popping the wide tip of his cock into the loose hole, cramming the rest of it in without so much as a hitch.

His nerve endings are alight. It is like sliding home a perfectly fitting key. He groans low and drawn out, but makes himself shut up by pressing his mouth against the inside of one forearm. He closes his eyes slowly, savoring the moment a lot more than the harsh rhythm from behind should make him able to.

The Soldier fucks him as if he intends it to be a punishment. Harsh, loveless thrusts that light Reaper up from the inside and make him want to sing. It definitely has the opposite effect to what it actually is: a perfect, satisfying fuck.

He can hear him grunting again and again, low and throaty. He must be leaning close, maybe even with his forehead pressed against the dividing wall. He imagines it would be even better without it. Maybe Soldier would bite him. Scratch him. Slap him.

Reaper comes before he quite realizes that it is time for it. His body clenches, then convulses, teeth digging into his flesh and temples pounding with a headache at how intense it is. He is vaguely aware of Soldier hissing and cursing. He’s slapping his ass, telling him to not do what he’s doing, but he’s already right in the middle and there is no turning back at this point.

He doesn’t really care either way. Maybe he’ll let Soldier get his rocks off before he dissolves into smoke and leaves the premises.

But he’s not too sure about that yet.


End file.
